


the practical art of halloween parties

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sexual Tension, al is dressed like dracula, i guess, oooooo halloween fic, that's.....sexy...right????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hated parties, in particular Halloween parties. Everyone was drunk and yelling in his ear about how great the party was. The decorations were hokey, mostly because Al did the decorating. The music was too loud. Every time he voiced these complaints to Al he always got the same response:</p>
<p>"Who is twenty years older than who?" he said after Sam rattled off his excuses this time, "Because right now you sound like you’re a hundred years old and want some kids to get off your lawn."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the practical art of halloween parties

**Author's Note:**

> i am so in love w/ halloween that i wanted my time travel gays to hv some spooky love. special thanks to pumpkin spice oreos, which are what fueled this whole fic.
> 
> hope you enjoy! comment if you can!

“C’mon Sam,” Al said, his words slurred by a pair of plastic fangs, “You gotta come to the party. It’s literally happening right below you.”

Sam turned away from his computer to say something but instead just sighed. Shaking his head, he tried not to stare at the ugly black cape Al had on.

“I’m not going to the party and please,” he said, gesturing to the fangs, “Take those out. I can’t take you seriously at all when you’re dressed like a Transylvanian native.”

“I’ll have you know that this Dracula costume has been a knock out with the ladies,” Al wiped imaginary dust off his shoulders and puffed out his chest. Sam tried not to laugh but his lips were wobbling with the effort. Al always dressed up like Dracula. Every Halloween party he pulled the costume out and every Halloween Sam still couldn’t get used to what a picture Al made in the black cape, huge red pendant and slicked back hair of the Count’s wardrobe. The teeth were really the icing on a very large and very amusing cake.

This entire spiel of trying to get Sam to come to the Halloween party? Also an annual tradition. Sam hated parties, in particular Halloween parties. Everyone was drunk and yelling in his ear about how great the party was. The decorations were hokey, mostly because Al did the decorating. The music was too loud. Every time he voiced these complaints to Al he always got the same response:

“Who is twenty years older than who?” he said after Sam rattled off his excuses this time, “Because right now you sound like you’re a hundred years old and want some kids to get off your lawn.”

“Just because I don’t like parties—“

“No, no. It’s not that. You like some parties,” Al said and that was true. Sam liked the Christmas party even if he got chased by mistletoe wielding secretaries and engineers. The New Year’s party wasn’t terrible although he didn’t really like the whole “kiss at midnight” thing. Actually, most of the parties had an uncomfortable amorous quality to them that put Sam off. Al teased him about that like he was a prudish schoolmarm instead of a corn-fed Indiana boy. All that stuff was catnip for Al and Sam could see, maybe, how that stuff might be fun. But only if you had someone to enjoy it with. Kissing random people at parties didn’t hold the same appeal as having one person to do all the romantic stuff with and laugh about it afterward.

“I think you got a different reason you don’t like Halloween,” Al continued and he stared at Sam like he was trying to see through him. Sometimes Sam was well and truly panicked that Al could and did see through him. He tried to bury himself back into his computer. Just one more line of code and maybe Al would leave.

“Listen. I just want to finish my work,” Sam said hurriedly, “And go home to watch black and whites with my cats.”

“You don’t wanna do that kid,” Al said, “I can tell. You want to go to the party with me.”

Sam pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat at Al’s addition of “with me” and kept typing.

“Nope,” he said, “Think I want to go home and not party.”

“I can see into your soul Sam,” Al was trying to make his voice more mysterious. He sounded like he had a cold, “What you want is to find a costume and come have fun drinking fruit punch with eyeball ice cubes and dance with Stephanie from Maintenance.”

“What?” Sam’s fingers stilled, “I don’t even know a Stephanie from Maintenance.”

“That’s ‘cause she doesn’t exist,” Al leaned back and shrugged, “I made her up to prove a point. But c’mon Sam. I want you to come. I never have any fun at these things without you.”

“Oh please. I’m sure Tina would be sore hearing you say that.”

“Ah Tina,” Al made a ‘pfft’ sound, “She’s got enough fun to fuel a party jet. But I can’t make fun of nobody’s costumes with her or talk to her about what’s the best monster or tease her about bein’ scared of flirting.”

“I’m not scared of flirting,” Sam said but he could feel his resolve softening.

“Ugh,” Al slid further down in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a flat look on his face and eyes big with a sympathy plea, “I guess if you ain’t coming, you ain’t coming. Won’t push you kid.”

“Um,” Sam hesitated over his words, not wanting to sound over eager, “Well if you wanted to maybe— um, well, maybe I could just put this off until tomorrow—“

“You’ll come?” Al’s excitement ratcheted back up and he was practically leaping from his seat, “Oh that’s great Sammy, real great. All we gotta do is find you a costume.”

“Now wait a minute Al,” Sam was being tugged out of his seat and out of his office still stammering, “I— I never said anything about going to the party.”

“You were getting there,” Al dismissed Sam with a wave of his hand, “Now stop yammering because we gotta find you something spiffy to wear. Maybe Tina’s got something in her closet you could borrow.”

“Tina’s closet?”

…

Sam scratched his head and shifted uncomfortably with his plastic cup in one hand. The other hand was trying to adjust the black cat ears on the top of his head. When he moved his head they started to slide down and, awkwardly, he was trying to hold them up.

The simplest costume in Tina’s closet was a cat suit that came with the ears Sam was wearing and a tail. After absolutely refusing to wear a skintight black jumpsuit, Sam let Al slide the cat ears headband on him, clip the tail to the back of his jeans and use Tina’s eyeliner to draw three whiskers on each cheek. He even colored the tip of Sam’s nose and, grinning, told Sam that now he was a pretty kitty.

“Shut up,” Sam said and then flushed when he realized he was talking to the Al in his memory. The intern standing next to him at the snack table side eyed him and Sam pretended to be very interested in the pigs in a blanket. Of course he had hidden himself at the snack table hoping to remain unnoticed. Sam wished fervently that he was a little more of a showboat. That would have made wearing a cat tail more palatable.

In a group of dancers a few feet from where Sam was taking small sips of a terrible drink stuffed into his hand by Tina that had lots of vodka and not enough Sprite was Al chatting up a few of the engineering women who were all dressed as different periodic elements. Sam complimented them all in his head. Al was glowing, cracking jokes with his stupid plastic fangs still in and getting everyone around him to laugh. Well, maybe the laughing was helped by the copious amounts of alcohol present in everyone’s bodies. Sam felt himself smiling down into his drink. Watching Al made him do that sometimes.

“Hey kid,” Sam looked up to see Al making his way over, “How is the punch bowl treating you? Did it try to get fresh or handsy? Cause’ I’ll defend your honor if you need me to.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head and pushing his cat ears back up as he did.

“No it was very polite,” he said, “Asked me to dinner first.”

“How come you’re over here,” Al asked and gestured to the snack table, “making nicey nice with the party grub when you could be,” Al pointed to the dance floor, “getting down with everyone on this spooktacular night?”

“Please don’t say spooktacular. Ever again.”

“Oh c’mon,” Al took hold of Sam’s wrist. Sam thanked god for low lighting and cursed himself for having too many blood vessels in his face making him flush red, “Put your drink down and dance.”

Sam let Al drag him onto the dance floor and tried to move his arms in the most innocuous way possible. Al started pushing him on the shoulder.

“Saaaaam,” his face was schooled with disappointment, “I know you can dance better than that.”

“Al—“

“Less whining. More dancing.”

Sam sighed and started shimmying his shoulders. His elbows stuck out and Sam moved them up and down. Every move was an entirely new realm of embarrassment even as more people started to dance with him. Sam hadn’t realized it but he had squeezed his eyes shut, probably trying to prevent himself from seeing the horror of his dancing. When he opened them Al was still in front of him and he was grinning through his own particularly exaggerated dance moves.

“That’s the ticket,” Al said, “Show off those _ghoul_ dance moves.”

As Sam laughed, he felt his headband slide all the way down and land right in front of his eyes. He stumbled to catch his balance and moved his hands to push the ears back before someone else’s hands got there first.

The headband moved up and Sam saw Al’s face very close to his. Al set the headband back on top of Sam’s head and tweaked one of the ears.

“Looked like you were having a wardrobe malfunction,” he said and gave Sam an awkward half smile, “But I fixed it.”

Sam nodded his thanks. Al’s hand didn’t leave the cat ear until someone called out a request for _Monster Mash,_ breaking the trance their nearness had created. He stepped back and coughed.

“Better see where Tina is,” Al said and, looking back once, disappeared into the crowd.

Sam huffed out a laugh, not sure what else to do. He thought, staring at his own two feet on the slowly emptying dance floor, that maybe coming to the Halloween party wasn’t the worst decision he could have made. Maybe if he walked quick he could catch up with Al. Just so he could have someone to have fun with.

Then someone yanked on his tail and Sam changed his opinion of Halloween back to “WORST HOLIDAY OF ALL TIME”. Too many tricks and, he though while looking at the beeline Al had made back to Tina, not enough treats to make the night worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> do you like spook 'ems? what about frights? come follow me at my [tumblr](http://avoidfilledwithcelluloid.tumblr.com/)


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